For nearly a year Dr. Bozo Ljubic felt like a trapped bird in the once beautiful city of Sarajevo, treating the wounded while mortars and bombs exploded around them.

"No bird could fly out," says Ljubic.

Today Ljubic feels a ray of hope for his homeland thanks to the Dayton, Ohio, peace agreement among the warring factions in Bosnia-Herzegovina.

"I couldn't have imagined three months ago that I would be able to leave or enter Sarajevo by normal roads," says Ljubic. He was in Bethlehem to visit his daughter, Spomenka, an exchange student attending Notre Dame High School.

Conditions have improved in Sarajevo, adds Ljubic, noting during the war no one could go in or out of Sarajevo since roads leading to the city were under constant fire.

"After the Dayton agreement I saw a dramatic improvement," he says. "Hostilities were stopped and some roads were opened."

For Spomenka, concerned for her father's safety since she came to the United States in August, the peace agreement offers cautious hope as well.

"I'm so happy to see him," says the Notre Dame senior who has been staying with the family of Notre Dame teacher Nancy Cordisco in Bethlehem. "I'm hopeful about peace. War can't go on forever."

Ljubic, who originally planned to visit Spomenka in December, postponed his trip as a government emerged from the peace process. Ljubic, an orthopedic surgeon and director of a hospital in Sarajevo, was named minister of health in the newly established government of Bosnia-Herzegovina and will oversee health care, hospitals and insurance concerns.

Reports of problems with the peace agreement following the arrest of two Serb officials concern Ljubic, but he feels things will continue to improve.

"I estimate this first step of the peace agreement was successful," he says. "I heard the roads were closed again -- temporarily I hope -- because of the arrests but I think the problems will be overcome."

Ljubic recalls happier times in Sarajevo where he, his wife and two daughters lived for many years.

"During the Olympic Games (in 1984), Sarajevo was very nice with beautiful surroundings, but now the city is quite destroyed," he says sadly.

After war broke out in 1992, Ljubic sent Spomenka to stay with her grandparents in a safer area near Mostar.

"I sent her on the last train from Sarajevo," he says. "After that the bridges were destroyed."

Ljubic's wife also escaped after four months, making it out despite treacherous mountainous roads, which were dangerous "even without shooting," says Ljubic.

Ljubic stayed in Sarajevo working at the hospital for nearly a year.

"I know how terrible it was," he says. "For months we had no running water, no fuel or electricity and no phone connections."

The hospital had stockpiled supplies and had a small generator although the doctors were often forced to work by flashlight and couldn't use X-rays and other equipment.

"A hospital designed to handle 170 patients had more than 300 wounded," he says. "I used to say it was the biggest war hospital. More than 10,000 people were killed during the war in Sarajevo."

Ljubic describes field hospitals where doctors often had to perform amputations without anesthetics.

"We were lucky," he says. "We were well equipped before the war. But as supplies ran out we had to preserve every meter of gauze. We were quite dependent on humanitarian assistance from all over the world."

When Ljubic was able to flee Sarajevo he planned to return, but was unable to get back in and spent the remainder of the war working at a hospital in Mostar where conditions were not much better.

"I still had to do a lot of surgery on the wounded. But the city was not surrounded so we could move in and out."

While back in Sarajevo, Ljubic says he saw a sudden increase in food and other goods imported, and the slow return of electricity and other services.

"It's not enough yet, but it can't be compared to the way it was during the war," he says.